


Easy as Pie

by ireadhpinenochian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 18:45:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3540083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ireadhpinenochian/pseuds/ireadhpinenochian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas makes Dean a pie. Dean does <em>not</em> get choked up about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy as Pie

“Dude,” Dean said, walking into the kitchen. “Do I smell pie?”

Castiel spun around from where he was just placing his freshly baked pie on the counter to cool. “I—um—yes.” He had hoped that he would have been able to clean up the kitchen before Dean returned. He knew Dean liked to keep things tidy now that he had a space to take pride in.

Cas fidgeted where he stood in front of the flour, egg shell, and apple peel strewn counters. He could see Dean’s eyes rove over it, taking it in and processing. Biting his lip, he waited for Dean to reprimand him for the mess.

“You said you’d be another hour,” Cas said, unable to take the silence any longer.

Dean ignored the comment as he continued to take in the scene before him.

Castiel cast his eyes down and noticed that his entire front had been covered in flour. It must have happened when he had first tried opening the bag—how was he to know the powdery substance would puff out of the newly torn opening? Needless to say, it had surprised him into spilling nearly half of the bag down his front. Perhaps he should have worn one of the aprons that Dean had hanging on a hook near the pantry.

“Did you—Cas, did you _make_ a pie?”

“I have attempted to do so, yes,” Cas replied warily.

“Dude,” Dean said emphatically. “You’re awesome.”

“But the mess,” Cas trailed off, peeking behind himself to see if it had vanished without his notice.

“Screw the mess,” Dean said. “You made pie. Can I have a piece?”

Cas stared at the wide eyed look of joyful anticipation on Dean’s face. “It just came out of the oven.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “It can cool off in my stomach.” He walked past Cas to lay his eyes on the lopsided pie. Any self respecting baker would have shuddered at the sight, but Dean merely beamed. “What possessed you to make a pie?” he asked. “I never figured you for taking up baking. Krav Maga, maybe. Hell, even gardening. Isn’t that what your buddy Joshua did?”

“I’m not ‘taking up’ baking,” Cas said, the air quotes apparent in his tone even though he managed to refrain from bringing his hands up. “I simply wanted to do something nice for you.”

Dean froze where he had a knife poised above the pie, ready to slice. Slowly, he turned to face Cas. “You baked a pie for me?”

He sounded so utterly bewildered that Castiel tilted his head to the side to stare at him in confusion. “For what other reason would anyone bake a pie?”

“But it’s not even my birthday,” Dean spluttered.

Castiel smirked. “Should I have waited to bake you a pie until then?”

“No, dude,” Dean said. “This is—this is great. Seriously.” He turned away from Cas. “No one’s ever made me a pie before.”

“Well, I made several,” Cas said. “But so far this is the only edible one.”

Dean snorted and rubbed a hand over his mouth, turning watery eyes back on Cas. “Seriously?”

“The phrase ‘easy as pie’ is a glaring inaccuracy.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel fought the smile starting to spread. “Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “I should rephrase my earlier statement: So far this one only _looks_ the most edible.”

Dean let out a choked laugh and quickly wiped off a tear that had dared escape his eye. “Man, you been cutting onions in here, too?” he asked gruffly.

Cas narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to respond in the negative before he realized that Dean was once again trying to brush off his show of emotion with a hyped up sense of masculinity. “Apologies,” Castiel lied instead. “It was one of the earlier batches.”

Dean let his laughter out then, his tears able to pass as from the outburst. He laid a hand on Cas’ shoulder, like he had done so many times before, and just like all of those times, a warmth spread through Cas. He let that feeling finally pull his mouth into a smile.

“Seriously, though, Cas,” Dean said, once his laughter tapered off. “Thank you.” His hand slid from Cas’ shoulder to the top of his arm, mimicking where Castiel had laid his mark on Dean all those years ago. For a few moments, they just stood there like that, staring at each other. Dean’s gaze softened and he squeezed a little in a comforting gesture, and Cas was sure he was about to let go, another potential moment passing them by. But then he pulled Cas close.

Cas’ breath hitched as his brain caught up to what was happening. Dean was leaning in, his long lashes closing over those brilliant green eyes, and then they were kissing. Dean’s other hand came up to tangle in Cas’ unruly hair, while both of Cas’ gripped the front of Dean’s jacket as if it was his only lifeline.

They broke apart gasping for air, unsure of how much time had passed. Another apocalypse could have come and gone for all they knew or cared.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean breathed, leaning in for another quick kiss. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

Cas moved his hands from Dean’s jacket, gliding up his chest, and finally coming to rest cupping either side of his face. “I love you, Dean.”

The words came out strong, but hung between them nervously.

Dean seemed to hold his breath before pressing another kiss into Cas. “Me, too,” he said softly.

They were both smiling too much for the next few kisses to land, so instead they rested their foreheads together, breath mingling.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice drifted into the kitchen, footsteps getting closer. “Do I smell p—I’ll come back later.”

Their smiles grew with their giggling laughter.

“Pie’s probably cool enough to eat now,” Cas said.

Dean pressed one more kiss into Cas’ lips before finally pulling away. “Let’s take it to my room.” Dean winked and grabbed the pie and two forks.

“Shouldn’t we leave some for Sam?” Cas asked.

“Hey, you said this was my pie.”

“Dean,” Cas said, exasperation creeping into his voice.

“Fine, fine,” Dean rolled his eyes. 

—

It was a few hours before Sam finally decided to brave the kitchen once again. Dean and Cas were gone, along with the pie. Sam huffed out a laugh and stepped over to the counter. Okay, maybe the whole pie wasn’t gone. On the counter was a tiny sliver on a plate, placed right next to a dirty mixing bowl and about four smashed egg shells.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Jerks.”


End file.
